In the Shadow of the Dragon King (33 page)

“He said you were going to attack him,” David said. “He couldn’t allow it since he had to speak to me.”

The dragon nudged the knight’s hand with his snout.

“He said he’s sorry.”

“Sorry, smorry,” Charlotte said, her gaze ping-ponging between David, Trog and the dragon. “Will someone please tell me who the heck is Maldorth?”

“Einar’s son, for the lack of a better word.” Trog’s gaze skimmed hers and he walked past.

“Wait,” David said. “You killed Einar’s son?”

“Oh dear God,” Charlotte said. “When were you going to tell us this? Did you not think this was important?” She paced, her hands in her hair. And then she laughed, but the sound didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, man, he must be so pissed at you.”

“I’m sure that is an understatement,” Trog said. He picked up his things from the ground.

“Still,” Charlotte continued, “that doesn’t explain why Mirith doesn’t talk to you instead of David.”

David stared at the ground, Mirith’s words loud and clear in his mind. The world pressed in all around him, squeezing him, suffocating him as if he were trapped in an hourglass turned upside down and time was running out. “I know why.” He lifted his head and stared into her desperate blue eyes. “Slavandria sent him to me through Groote because I’m the paladin and I need Mirith because he possesses the power to do what only one other living soul can do.”

“And what’s that?” Charlotte asked.

He hesitated for a second, and then said …

“He can kill Einar.”

The door to Eric’s room opened. A young man entered carrying a tray of breakfast. Farnsworth strolled in behind him and waited for the manservant to leave before closing the door. He lifted the silver dome lid of the tray, nodded as if he approved of the contents, and set the lid aside.

“Come. You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Eric turned on his left side, his back to the unwanted visitor.

There was a long, perceptible silence in the room before Farnsworth said, “Suit yourself.” He crossed the room and opened the door. “Soldiers from Trent and Doursmouth are arriving,” he said, “along with others from Banning and Fauscher. A briefing will take place this evening. You are expected to be in attendance. Make sure you are dressed appropriately.”

The door latched behind him. The lock tumbled.

He snorted.
They only want me there to keep an eye on me, not because they recognize my worth.

Eric stood and walked over to the table, his gut gnawing at the intoxicating smell of cured pork and eggs. Outside, sunshine poured over the courtyards. Horses clomped over the battered cobblestones.

Men spoke.

Children laughed.

Dogs barked.

His heart crumbled a bit more. He was a prisoner, forced into servitude. No one considered his feelings. No one acknowledged his ideas. He was nothing to the knights, especially Farnsworth. Just a rabid dog that needed to be controlled.

He picked up the tray of food, walked to the balcony, and dumped it over the rail.

There. Let the dogs scrounge.

At least they were free to make their own choices.

As it was, he was just a pawn, a piece for those with power to move about at will to suit their needs.

Not anymore.

Time was ticking until Eric broke the chains.

And he couldn’t wait to see their faces when he did.

David mind-spoke with Mirith as they trudged to a secluded path northward toward Hirth. He learned of different kinds of dragons, where they lived, and how many there were all over the world of Estaria, not just the realm of Fallhollow. He learned of all the kingdoms of Fallhollow, starting with Braemar, the land to the west that Einar had burned to the ground. A kingdom once thriving with agriculture, gone, destroyed, doomed to a fiery grave from which it never recovered.

The kingdom of Berg had been ruled by a very brave and compassionate king. Its wealth of rivers and access to the Brindle Sea ensured trade to all kingdoms of Fallhollow. What the king collected in taxes he returned to the farms and river towns, providing equipment and vessels to spur commerce and trade. But Einar took the land and murdered all who opposed him, turning their souls into shadowmorths. Trade ceased except for that which he permitted, and farms fell into weed-encrusted memories. The dragon assumed the throne, taking up residence in Berg Castle as if it were built for him.

In the middle of Braemar and Berg was Hirth, a grand kingdom formed from Braemar and Berg at the end of the last Dragon War. It was the seat of power of all Fallhollow and was ruled by a kind and fair king and queen, beloved by all. People came and went as they pleased. Hirthinians were free to set goals and make their own decisions, to live a life of excellence and prosperity. No other land existed anywhere in the world that came even remotely close to its Utopian existence. It was the envy of all the five realms of Estaria, and the focus of Einar’s attention, for of all the lands he set out to conquer, Hirth was the only one that denied him his glory. Coupled with the fact the guy who had killed his son lived there, Einar was apparently in a perpetually bad mood over this.

David considered what all this meant, and his stomach churned. Not only was he responsible for finding a magical stone that had just happened to vanish around the neck of some goon, he needed to keep a sorcerer and an enchantress out of his head while avoiding a dragon the size of Texas.

Yeah. This was going to work out just fine.

A soft, almost silent melodic tune floated into David’s ears. He stopped walking, his face lifted to the clouds.

“What’s that sound?” Charlotte whispered, linking her fingers in his. He gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“The Elastine Forest,” Trog said. “One of Einar’s prisons. The bells lure you in. Once inside, there is no escape. You’re stuck there until the monster decides what he wants to do with you.”

“You’re joking, right?” Charlotte’s words came out rough. She cleared her throat, uncorked a canteen, and tipped it back.

Trog grunted. “Do I have a smile on my face?” He kept walking.

Charlotte wiped her mouth and looked at David. “He’s not joking.”

David snorted. “Surprise, surprise.”

The path grew narrower and the forest thicker and darker, forcing them into a single file with Trog in the lead and Mirith taking up the rear. By late afternoon the path opened into a round glade covered in green grass and bathed in bright sunlight. Pungent cedar lingered in the air. A waterfall roared in the distance. A stream gurgled off to their left. Across the clearing, the path picked up again amidst fallen trees and underbrush.

Trog unhinged his bags. “We’ll rest here for a few minutes. I suggest you take care of your personal business while I get more water. We don’t have much farther to go before we reach Hirth.

“That’s not much of a path,” David said, handing Trog his empty canteen.

“Any path farther east will take us too close to Berg and the shadowmorths. We’re safer here.” Trog wandered off into the tree line.

Charlotte set her bags down beside a boulder and combed her fingers through her hair. “God, I wish that waterfall was closer. I’d jump into the pool beneath it and never get out until this stench washed off me. I’ve never felt so gross in my entire life.”

David paced back and forth, fists clenched, agitated by the increasing pulses and electrical currents zinging between his ring and tattoo. He bit back the icy-hot sensation of blood speeding through his veins.

Beside him, Mirth roared. He lowered his head and popped open his scales and feathers while growling and pawing at the ground.

“Whoa!” Charlotte said, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong with him? Why is he doing that?”

“I don’t know! Mirith, what’s wrong?”

The dragon’s voice yelled in his head.
Seek cover. Now! Hide!

“Why? What’s happening?”

Mirith whipped around, his eyes glowing like hot coals, and lunged at him.

Charlotte yelled for Trog as she ran toward David.

“Get away from him!” she shouted at Mirith.

Trog ran from the trees. “What?”

A massive shadow passed overhead. A brisk wind swept the glade, bending the blades of grass.

Charlotte’s face turned to the sky. “Oh … my … God.”

Trog ran across the glade, the canteens flying into a thicket. He yanked David and Charlotte by their shirts and shoved. “Go! Both of you!”

David found his feet, his nerve. He grabbed Charlotte’s hand, scooped up her bag, and ran. He all but threw her over a fallen tree and ducked down, his heart thud, thud, thudding.

Mirith stood in the middle of the glade, his tail swishing, his neck flared out like that lizard that walks on water.

The hiss of Trog’s sword leaving his scabbard rippled through David like fingernails across a chalkboard.

Giant black wings twice as wide as a jumbo jet sliced through the air.

David grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow.

The shadow flew over again.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

“Good, God, did you see the scales on that thing? There’s no way your arrow will pierce that armor,” Charlotte said, “not unless you strap a bomb on the other end.”

She was right. What was he thinking? His little arrow would just piss it off. David lowered his weapon, the scene before him playing out like a dream.

Mirith crouched close to the ground. Trog stood nearby, his sword at his side. Two warriors. Bulging muscles. Both ready to fight, defend, and maybe die.

Charlotte peered up at the sky, her hand shielding her eyes. “Where did he go?

As if in answer, the beast circled again, his massive body blocking out the sun. With wings spread and talons open, he dove downward, grabbing the ground as he landed. Trees cracked from the weight of his wings. Chunks of earth plowed up beneath him.

David sat still, paralyzed. Charlotte said something, but he didn’t hear. Nothing existed except for the creature before him.

Was he black? Was he purple? The sheen on his scales hinted at both. He was at least ten stories high, the top of his head looming over the treetops. There was a sawtooth on the tip of his nose, horns on its head, and a mace at the tip of its long tail. Armored ridges framed his amber, snake-like eyes and he smelled of rotten eggs and sewer water. He lowered his neck and opened his mouth, exposing sharp, yellow teeth bigger than Trog.

David tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs failed to expand. His chest grew tight, his throat closed up. He tried to look away, tried to blink, but he couldn’t. Charlotte grasped his hand. He could sense her touch, but he couldn’t feel it. He focused on the tiny dragon and the knight he’d once thought was bigger than life. Against Einar, they were nothing more than miniscule ants.

You have such little faith
, Mirith said.
I may be small, but I have something he doesn’t have!

What is that? David asked, his mind barely able to form the words.

Heart!
Mirith said, and with that he turned to his right, charged toward Trog with his head down, and knocked Trog across the glade into the brush a few feet from David.

Charlotte yelled and scrambled over David. “Trog!”

David broke from his trance and grabbed at Charlotte’s leg. “Stay down!”

She kicked at him. “I have to see if he’s alright!”

A blast of air, followed by a wall of heat slammed into David.

Fire.

The glade was on fire.

David peeked over the log as Mirith expelled a long breathy roar. A ring of ice spread across the ground, covering the field.

Einar screeched and hopped as if the cold burned his talons. He swished his tail and hammered the ice, exploding chunks into the air. His body rumbled, and the vibration traveled over the ground. He careened his long neck in David’s direction and opened his mouth. Flames billowed inside his throat.

David scrambled toward Charlotte and muttered the only words that came to mind. “
Ibidem Evanescere.
”

A crack of lightning filled the air.

Einar elicited a plaintive cry. He whipped around, rage in his eyes, smoke billowing from his right haunch. Mirith smacked his tail against the ground then arched it over his back like a scorpion ready to strike.

Einar’s slit-pupil eyes widened. He opened his mouth. Fire flicked between his teeth.

Another electrifying bolt launched from Mirith’s tail across the glade, colliding with Einar’s jaw.

The black dragon threw his head back and bellowed, fire blasting into the sky.

Mirith flattened his feathers and quills and spun in circles, spinning so fast his body blurred. All at once, he stopped, opened his mouth, and shot copious amounts of water into the air, dousing the flames. Twice he did this until the flames were gone. Einar danced around the puddles, shrieking, electrical fingers zapping his feet. Mirith poised his tail and shot another bolt into the water at Einar’s feet.

The black dragon wailed as the blast lifted him from the ground and blew him backwards.

The ground shook.

David thrust his fist in the air. “Yes!”

Einar flicked his tongue and rolled to his feet. He snapped open his wings and took flight. He hung in the air like a kite, a graceful lump of pure destruction.

David broke the invisibility spell and stood. “Mirith? Are you okay?”

Stay back!

David looked skyward. “What’s he doing?”

The black dragon spiraled downward, his wings tucked.

David’s breath came in short gasps.

At the tree line, Einar spread his wings and swooped over the glade.

David froze, unable to scream. Unable to do anything.

The beast plucked Mirith from the ground and retreated to the sky.

Anguish seized David, his mind filled with Mirith’s fear and pain.

“No.” David shook his head, anger filling his core. “No! I won’t let you kill him!” He scurried to his bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly.

It bounced off Einar’s snout like a feather off a ball.

Einar flung Mirith’s limp body to the ground, and turned his gaze on David. Smoke drifted from his nostrils.